The Bittersweet Coffee Shop Surrender
by East Acadia
Summary: Harry, Ron and Hermione. A coffee shop. And the meaning of family. RHR.


Author's note: Quote challenge, huh... funny that. I thought that a good portion of the fan fictions out there started off this way anyway. Or at least most of the fan fictions I've read. Especially from songs. Don't get me wrong, I love that about fan fics... I was just saying.

Sorry if there are any tense errors. I have a tendency to revert to the past tense when I'm not paying attention. As irritating as that can be.

Disclaimer: I own neither The West Wing, or Harry Potter. Most days I can barely type, so there's no way I could write something as brilliant as either one of those stories.

We're a group. We're a team. From the President and Leo on through, we're a team. We win together, we lose together. We celebrate and we mourn together. And the defeats are softened and the victories are sweeter because we did them together... You are my guys and I'm yours... and there's nothing I wouldn't do for you.

-_Toby Ziegler (Richard Schiff): The West Wing._

**The Bittersweet Coffee Shop Surrender**

There's a Starbucks on the corner of Harper and Thickinbrook, and I asked Ron and Hermione to meet me there at eight to talk about what's next. They have to apparate into a designated area about ten kilometers from here, so I expect it will take them some time to get here. In the meantime, I'm left on my own to think, which Ron would say is a very dangerous thing to leave me do.

I should be thinking about the up coming war, but all I can think about are trivialities.

What is the appeal of a coffee shop, and do they serve tea that isn't like something out of a new age handbook?

I could ask, but that would mean getting off this stool, and that's not likely to happen. And I don't think I'm actually that interested, now that I think about it. I don't want tea or coffee, and the server at the counter looks like she'd take me out back and throttle me with a bottle of caramel syrup if I dared bother her, which happens to be one of the reasons I'm sitting here with no coffee or tea. I'm just telling myself I don't want one so I don't feel so bad about being intimidated by a twenty-five year old shop girl.

With the fate of the known world on my shoulders, I don't think I'm allowed to take such chances with my life.

That, or I have more in common with poultry than I thought. I know which one Ginny would pick, if she were here.

The thought of her brings up a whole new Pandora's box, and I don't think I want to delve into that right now. I'd rather take on four horcruxes and all that comes with that than think about her right now, no wait... I do have to take on four horcruxes. Well, then that's that, I guess.

Next topic.

Man, it's cold in here.

How is it atmospheric to light a fireplace in the middle of July? For that matter, cost efficient with the air conditioning on so high? It's like they're trying to create climate regions with the differing temperatures. At the door, they should have a host that asks instead of the usual smoking or non, 'Excuse me sir, ma'am. Would you like sit in the tropical rain forest, or plains of Siberia. It's your choice, although I have to warn you that drinking a hot beverage in the rain forest section might cause heat stroke.'

I often wonder about people. Most of them are clustered around the fireplace, sweating. Although, I have to wonder about myself as well, because I'm still sitting where I can see my breath. I wonder who's nuttier.

I've lost the feeling in my fingers from the cold. Maybe I'm sitting near a vent, or something. I should move. Ah, I don't want to just yet. I'll move when Ron and Hermione get here.

I''m beginning to think I'm a glutton for punishment. A masochist in disguise. A graduate of the school of privation with a degree in mortification? Have I...

Okay, I was on a bit of a roll there. Must snap out of it.

Where are they?

That girl behind the counter is now filing her nails over the chocolate biscuits. I'm glad I'm a bit afraid of her after all.

I'm the only one on the frigid side of the place, and the only one not drinking anything, and that's making me feel a little conspicuous. I hope they get here soon.

Speak of the devil...

The two of them come through the front doors in silence, which is really not a good sign. Either Ron pissed off Hermione, or they are doing a fair impersonation of a the painting 'American Gothic'. I'm leaning towards the former.

"Harry," Ron says, clapping me on the back. "What are you doing over here. It's freezing."

"Sitting," I answer. Just call me the master stater of the obvious.

"We can see that," Hermione says. She pulls me up by the arm and hauls me over to a table halfway between the fireplace and the chilled icebox where I was sitting. I don't think I ever really do catch my feet because I stumble into a couple of tables and a couple drinking chai tea like a drunkard. Ron follows after dutifully, up-righting chairs and smiling apologetically.

"Well, hello to you too, Hermione." I try to settle myself in the chair Hermione threw me in, literally.

"I thought we made ourselves clear."

Ron gives me a look that says, 'watch yourself, Hermione's on the warpath.' Although he gives the look reluctantly. It seems he agrees with her. Huh, will wonders never cease.

"What are you on about."

"We heard from Fred, who heard from Angelina, who heard from..." she stops and looks at Ron.

"Bill, I think."

"Right, from Bill, who heard from Tonks, who heard from Lupin that you were planning on leaving after the wedding next week to start your search."

"What?" My mind is buzzing from trying to follow the branch of that particular grapevine.

"Do you really want me to repeat that?"

Okay, so they aren't mad at each other. It's even worse; they mad at me.

"I didn't say anything of the sort." Honestly, I can't remember what I said to whom, and who she said started this rumor. Or what they're fretting about, actually. Where do they think I'm going again?

Hermione scoffs. I never knew anyone who scoffed until I met Hermione, and she scoffs often. Does that mean she thinks I'm ridiculous?

"I told you I was coming to the wedding. And I told you we were going to discuss where to go next tonight, right here, now. As in this minute, immediately, at once..."

"All right, all right." she says, waving her hands to stop me.

Ha! Squelched that rumor down flat like a bug under my shoe.

"It's just... that's not what we heard."

Maybe not.

I look to Ron for help, but he is watching the shop girl with fascination as she begins the process of making some caffeinated concoction.

"You're going to believe a rumor that's five times removed, over me?"

My voice got kind of high at the end of that. I hope they took that as indignation rather than a sign of my youth.

"Of course not, it's just..."

She would.

"You would." I'm feeling a bit hurt.

"We had to be sure. You don't contact us very often, and you did go to Godric's Hollow without telling anyone. So, I think we had reason to be worried."

Will they never let that go? Will they never understand?

"That was a family thing. I wanted to do that alone."

"You do family things with your family, Harry. That's what they're for." And here I was thinking that Ron wasn't listening. Apparently I'm wrong. Now, I'm also confused, because Ron knows that everyone in my family is dead, and I'm wondering what he's playing at.

"You know I don't have a family."

Hermione scoffs again, but looks to Ron to answer.

"You have me, and Hermione."

"And Ginny, if you ever decide to talk to her again."

"Right, Ginny." Ron's smile is decidedly unkind at that one. "And my parents, and brothers. Maybe not Percy, though. I don't know about him."

"And Lupin."

"Hagrid, and Tonks, and well... just about everyone in the Order."

"Okay, okay, I got you." I knew that; I've always considered them sort of a family, but I wanted to see the place where I began this alone, alone. I don't really think they'd understand, as hard as they'd try. And anyway, I don't want to load them down with the burden of taking care of me if or when I get emotional. They don't need to see that. I am strong, I am a rock... and I am quoting Simon and Garfunkel in my head.

"I don't think you do." says Ron.

"Ron..."

"Harry, a family is more than just the people you hang out with at weddings and stuff. I mean, they're family, but most of those people I wish I could disown. My Aunt Mildred used to..."

"Ron." Hermione looks at Ron rather peculiarly, and smiles. I recognized that smile, but I can't place it at the moment. It's sweet enough to make my teeth ache.

"You know what I mean."

The look of concentration on his face makes me wonder what's so special about that spot in the corner he keeps looking at. I take a quick peek, but am no closer to understanding.

"When my Dad got bit by that snake, everyone sat by his bedside, and do you know why? I mean, we weren't afraid he was going to disappear in a puff of smoke."

"Because you were worried about him." We'll, _duh_.

"Yeah, but Mum worries about him every day. She's a perpetual worrier. And you can do that from anywhere."

Ron fiddled with the salt shaker, rolling it around in his hand and making a mess of the table as he thought. It's like he thought the salt could counteract the saccharin sweet looks Hermione's shooting his way and he's building himself a force field. It wasn't working.

"We were there to give him something to come home to when he woke up." He's blushing. Ron's blushing, and I can feel myself stare at him in disbelief. "To let him know he wasn't alone. To laugh with him when he was feeling better, and support him when he wasn't. To give him a hard time when he was being stupid about his care. To care that he was being stupid and hurting himself when he didn't have to. We were there for him, just like he would have been there for any one of us. That's family."

"That's nice." I wish I had that. I guess I did have that once, but I wish I would have known it first hand.

Hermione stills Ron's hand, and thankfully removes the salt shaker. "Everyone at the hospital that day did what families do: families stick together."

"And you were there with us that day too, remember." Ron is smiling at me, and I have to wonder if that sickening smile is catching because I can feel one creeping up on my face.

"You're a invaluable member of my family." Hermione grabs my hand and holds it rather awkwardly.

"And mine. Certainly more valuable than my Aunt Mildred."

"And we're going to stick together, right?"

Okay, I've been defeated. I'm waving the white coffee cup of surrender, declaring my bittersweet defeat. I've never known my parents, but I've always had family. I've known that kind of familial love, and I still have that kind of love, even if somewhere in the back of my brain I refused to see it for what it was. I guess, maybe, it's time I recognized it. I guess I can get used to that.

The thing I'm not going to be able to get used to is something that lovey-dovey coming from my best friend. Or the looks the he and Hermione are shooting one another. What's up with that?

I must change the subject before Hermione starts shedding tears.

Oh, too late.

"Um, okay." My voice sounds hoarse. I can't believe I'm getting emotional. "After the wedding, I was thinking about visiting my parents graves, only I don't know where they are."

Hermione smiles. "I could look that up for you."

"Okay."

"Oh, and the twins have this great new invention that might come in handy if we have to go far. I ask them if we can use it."

"Sounds good."

"We can start tomorrow, what do you say?"

What do I say? Well, for starters; thank goodness for family.


End file.
